Following my failure to tend to the dandelions picked by myself and Trenchfoot, they consequently picked up rather too much flavour for my liking, such that the utility room began to smell much like a dead cat I found curled up in the corner of the grain store one summer. However, Goggles McGee came to the rescue a few days later, asking if I’d fancy some dandilions she’d seen on a meadow. Obviously.
However, once we’d stalked them all, we were still somewhat short. So Goggles and I headed out to pick some more. Frustratingly there were few about, and I lacked the boldness to steal them from people’s gardens in case they were moved to bring out the mower and take me out along with the dandelions I was trying to liberate from their overgrown gardens. Shall add the recipe when I can be arsed.